All Sides of the Story
by Vos Mos Amplio
Summary: An abusive grandfather. A dead couple. A school dance. An unlucky half-German. A misunderstanding. An egotistical chipmunk. Nothing made sense that weekend, but it takes more than one person to tell a story. Warning: Active Shooter Theme & Plot Driven by OCs. Guest Starring: You.
1. Prelude

**Das Machts Nichts: Prelude**

 **I cannot say that I've ever written a normal romance AATC fic, much less attempted one.**

 **Nor do I plan to. EVER.**

 **I am Vos Mos Amplio. I'm an editor, but today, I'm also a writer.**

 **Perhaps by the end of this fic, you will have figured out my original profile on the site. If you still care to guess, at least.**

 **Also, if I happen to know you (or know OF you by name, location, likes, etc.), expect cameos of yourselves in the fic as supporting/original characters. It's about time someone did something like that…**

* * *

 _ **-"I heard gunshots…"**_

The booming of gunshots shattered the peace of the Sunday evening, jarring people from their complacency and fragile naps. Immeadiately following, a bitter scream was heard; it was pained cry, and everyone could tell that someone of their number had been lost, though none could tell who it was. Under the threat of a likely active shooter, most people remained indoors… they huddled in tenuous safety while the braver few of those who were also curious, flocked out through their gates and into the streets, wanting to know who had fired the weapon and more importantly, who had been shot.

Everyone knew the direction of where the explosions were heard, but a lone man who lived in the closest proximity (who happened to have a shred of audacity to even step out of his home), pointed at the house across from his. "Over there!" he shouted, while worry was etched across his, "it came from the Seville house!" Despite being a teacher, thus 'knowing better', he was already trekking across the street to the house while calling for the police first, then for an ambulance. Danger was most likely in the house, the shooter that is, and he should've just waited outside.

But Dracon had to see. His students were in there. Alvin, Simon, and Theodore. They were in there.

Were they still in there?

He hoped not.

The teacher gingerly tried the doorknob, only to find that it was still open and that the door itself had never been closed up all the way. It fully opened easily without even a creak, and the man stepped inside. He treaded carefully throughout the rooms on the ground floor he was on, low and cautious to avoid making even the slightest noise. He still had no idea why he'd even approach the house, let alone enter it, and could only wonder if he had grown too fond of his students. 'No, that's nonsense. I might be stupid right now, but something must've happened to the boys! And damn, it happened when Dave's away on his business trip! He told me to check up on them! Maybe if I had checked up on them more frequently-'

A hand grasped at his shoulder, and the teacher nearly jumped out of his skin in fright. Before he could even yell or act rashly, a voice spoke.

"Take it easy, Mr. Dracon, it's just me."

He recognized the voice as one of his students. "Hmm? Streamer?"

The girl grunted in the affirmative when she heard her nickname, though it was a name she hated. "Yeah, it's me, Sir. We should be waiting outside until the cops come-"

"The boys are my responsibility!" Mr. Dracon insisted. "You don't have to be in here with me…! At least let me go check to see if they're all right! Maybe even do some first aid!"

"What if the shooter is still in here? Mikhael's gone crazy!" Streamer whispered fiercely.

"I don't care!" the man exclaimed as he kept on walking, heading off into the living room. Streamer was still hot on his heels, caught up because she didn't know whether to stay with him or to retreat outside with him. Ultimately, her own concern overwhelmed her common sense, and she followed after her teacher. Soon, he came to a sudden stop, making Streamer bump into him. She tried to peer around him to see what could have possibly made him stand still in shock.

There was nothing good to see-… once the girl saw the bloodied bodies of her friends, she screamed, and sirens wailed in the distance as they beared down on the location of the house with the dead therein. Yet still, there was no time to grieve as law enforcement came quickly, cordoning the area with police tape, allowing themselves and the morticians to work unimpeded, hauling off the bodies of Brittany, Alvin and Mikhael. However, when the time came that a detective on scene asked for details as to what happened, four people stepped forward.

There was more than one side to every story, and this was no different; everyone's account mattered.

Only one person could not tell a story.

* * *

 **I'm vague for a reason. You don't know why these people are dead until the fic ends. But as for who the supporting characters, the people who read this will recognize themselves as I go on, though everyone should know who the teacher is (if you know who I happen to Beta for). I'll spoil who each person is when their particular chapter ends.**

 **For this chapter for example, Dracon is actually SpyroDragonTime.**

 **Embrace the insanity!**

 **-Vos Mos Amplio.**


	2. IT

_**Das Machts Nichts: Friday**_

 _~IT~_

 _ **-"Mikhael was arguing with Alvin on Friday…"**_

'Streamer', with a sigh, opened up her web browser and clicked on a bookmark to her favorite video streaming site. Nothing much was going on in their history class at present, given that the syllabus had been completed-… furthermore, the school year was almost at an end, and the girl was relieved.

She had some shows that she needed to catch up on.

It wasn't much; the school's Wi-Fi wasn't at it's best in her class, but she was willing to tolerate lesser video quality. What she found hard to tolerate was the fact that her earphone's seemed to have malfunctioned on her left side, and had stopped working.

She could hear Alvin and Mikhael going at it again.

"Alvin," Mikhael said with a slightly German accent cutting into his tone, "did you finish your portion of the assignment? If we don't both finish it, we won't get a grade. It's already overdue!"

"Sure thing!" Alvin exclaimed, tossing the folder with the project inside to his working partner. "It was easier than I thought, Michael."

" _Nein-…no!_ It's not 'Michael', you twit." Mikhael complained harshly. "It's Mikhael. You pronounce it 'Mik-ha-el'. It's almost the end of the school year, and not once have you gotten it _right_!"

"Chill, man. I'm just messing with you. You're just as easy to Oceana Steele over there," Alvin said with a laugh as he pointed at the girl who had transferred from Australia a bare three months before, who was chatting with Eleanor on the other side of the class. "You two just react in this funny way and get your undies all bunched up when your names aren't pronounced the way you want them to. But you're funnier, especially when you slip up and speak German and you have to repeat what you meant in English."

"I don't find it funny." Mikhael turned his attention to the project, skimming through it. As he did, Streamer thought that she could almost hear his blood pressure rise. "What the hell is this, Alvin? Did you write this after watching a war movie instead of properly researching it?!"

Alvin was calm as if he had expected the outburst from his friend. "Actually no, it wasn't from a movie. But I properly researched it. You see, I played this shooter game _based_ on the war…" He hadn't even gotten any further before Mikhael yelled a German curse before storming back to his seat. The girl sitting around her laptop found herself pausing her video just to listen in on the boy's argument, mostly from her concern, though she kept her eyes on the screen to appear that she wasn't eavesdropping. "Oh come on!" Alvin snapped. "What's the matter? I did a lot of writing for this! Can't you verify it if it's true? I mean, you _are_ half-German after all… Shouldn't you be a professional on this project? Not being racist… I mean because you love History. Besides, what's that phrase you're always saying? ' _Das mats nits'_ or something like that? It doesn't matter? That's what it means, doesn't it? It doesn't matter. That's what you're always saying."

" _Das machts nichts-… it doesn't matter._ But I'm sure it must have been fun for you to have spent hours shooting video game Nazis!" the boy fumed. "I'll have to edit this all during lunch time and _hope_ that we get a C." The boy exhaled deeply. " _Das machts nichts-… it doesn't matter."_

"You're right. It doesn't matter, 'cause I'm sure that the game developers did their research too. It'll work out, man. Besides, a C isn't a bad grade. It's decent."

"It'd be better if you did your work properly," Mikhael grumbled heatedly as he took out his phone in order to do some last minute research. "Ok, Google… browse World War Two on Wikipedia."

The phone spent the longest while trying to process his request, but it inevitably failed due to his accent. _"…Could you repeat that?"_

The girl sitting around her laptop had to bite her lower lip to avoid laughing out loud, before going back to playing her show. With that done, however, she felt her mirth turn abruptly into regret and guilt when she heard the boy sound as if he wanted to grieve; despite her show having her attention and blaring in one ear, what Mikhael whispered was still audible to her.

"…It's as if the whole world hates me…"

Streamer nearly felt like kicking herself, but all of a sudden, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She was badly startled but didn't let it show. She looked up at the owner and saw that Mikhael was next to her. Pulling out both earpieces, she asked him for what he wanted.

"I see that you're watching something on your laptop." The half-German scratched his head as he observed that there was a rotating circle in the middle of the screen, indicating that the video was 'buffering'. "Mr. Dracon is a bit lax when it comes to the rules, but he lets us use our gadgets in front of him so long as we complete our work properly and on time."

"What's your point?"

"It means that you finished your assignment, Streamer. As a favor, can I speed-read it to find out some dates about the war? Or you can tell me if you remember them?"

The teen groaned when she heard the name. "Geez, I hate that nickname. I thought that you of all people would actually call me by name since you hate when people mispronounce your name."

Mikhael smiled sheepishly. "… _Verzeihung-… pardon me_ , but what _was_ your name again? Everyone just calls you 'Streamer' because you always seem to be streaming something to watch. Your proper name's hardly ever used by anyone I know, so I can't even remember it."

"Sprite Penn. Now, what did you say that you wanted? To skim my project? Sorry, I turned in mine already. Besides, you normally finish your work before me, don't you?" She was actually pretending not to have heard his argument with Alvin in order to keep up appearances but seeing his flinching reaction only made her feel like she was throwing salt into his wounds. "You got paired with Alvin again, didn't you? Poor you."

"Yeah, but he's my… friend. A pity that his head's lacking the stuff it should have between his ears. Now could you tell me when the war started? And when Hitler committed suicide? That's all I really need right now." Sprite offered him the dates he wanted, which he graciously thanked her for. Out of the corner of her eyes, she watched him hurry back to his seat and scribbled the entries inside before continuing to re-work the entire project as best as he could. Soon, their History class had come to an end when the bell rang, signifying that it was lunchtime in the high school, but Mikhael didn't move and neither did she. Their classmates weren't of the same inclination, and they hurried to get the best of the food before it was finished, but the youth remained steadfast in his work.

Sprite herself knew that the work was his reason for staying behind, but she herself didn't know why she stayed. She didn't know if it was because of pity for his troubles, if she did out of guilt for not appearing more empathetic, or if she did it because he looked as if he would've liked having some company. She didn't know why, only that she did it, and every now and again she glanced at him to see him still working fastidiously over the project, toiling through the lunch hour.

Close to the end of the lunch hour, he finally stopped as soon as he grasped that he wasn't going to be able to improve the project anymore. Rubbing his fingers to get the cricks out, he spoke up and asked the girl who was still on her laptop if she wasn't going for lunch. He had inherently realized that she was keeping him company, seeing as the school's Wi-Fi internet signal was normally strongest in the library and in the lunchroom.

Feeling her stomach growl, she tried her best to ignore it. "The cafeteria isn't exactly the safest place to bring a laptop, after all. Food and drink everywhere."

"The best stuff is probably gone by now," the boy observed. "What were you watching that was so interesting? An anime? Hunter x Hunter, maybe?"

"No. Steven Universe."

Mikhael facepalmed himself. "Of course." He returned back to work, and kept on, and finally finished with fifteen minutes of the lunch hour to spare. "Great." He looked up back to Streamer who was shutting her laptop and told her thanks for the company.

It caught her unawares that he realized what she was doing, but she shrugged it off before she allowed it to embarrass her. "No problem, man. Still, I don't know why you put up with Alvin's crap sometimes. If you just had to edit his side of the work, then it means that you did the whole assignment by yourself. _Again_. You're too forgiving, I swear."

" _Das machts nichts-…It doesn't matter._ The school year's done anyway. I just have to turn the project over to Mr. Dracon, and then all I'll have is the dance to look forward to with Brittany tomorrow. Anyway, I have to go."

"Bye, Mikhael."

Packing up his things and the project in his hands, Streamer watched as the boy took off in a run through the door to get to the teacher's lounge.

"Doesn't it matter? Hey, Mikhael! Wait up!"

…

After knocking and letting themselves into the room, the two teens found the man inside drinking a cup of coffee while grading the other projects his students have already turned in.

"Oh? Penn? Raimund? What's that?" the History teacher asked before he observed the folder that the male of the two had in his hands. "The World War Two project that's overdue for three days?"

"Yes, but-"

"I'll grade it. But if it's not worth a hundred percent from the start, then it's basically a failing grade, given the fact that grades are deducted for each day late. Still better than zero, if you're one of those 'glass-is-half-full', kind of people. However, this project is responsible for a large chunk of your final grade, and if you fail this project, you've probably failed the entire course."

"Please understand, sir!" Sprite proffered her comment. "He was working with Alvin-" Before she could get any further, Mikhael shushed her by putting a finger over his own lips. "But-"

" _Das machts nichts-… it doesn't matter._ Just… never mind." The half-German returned his attention back to his teacher and gave him the project, who began leafing through it. "Is it a high fail, at least?"

"I suppose I'll let you know tonight, Raimund. But in honesty…" Mr. Dracon peered at a page, noting Alvin's sloppy handwriting in a particular section. "It doesn't seem like it. Certain details are incorrect… did your partner write this based on a movie?"

"No… a _game_ ," Mikhael said heatedly. "I'll let myself out."

"I'm sorry, Raimund, but I can't offer any more leeway due to the lack of punctuality for this project…?" The man looked up to see the boy about to leave. "Hey, are-"

" _Das machts nichts -… It doesn't matter_." Mikhael exited the room and shut the door behind him. Left alone in the room again, Mr. Dracon frowned as he thought of his student. He'd seem… _disturbed_ , for lack of a better word. The teacher was aware that the boy didn't come from a nice home… in fact, it was a miserable one, but the boy had always found it in him to smile, even when he wasn't happy. Even his forced happiness looked legit up until now.

Just now, when the boy had answered in his usual phrase, Mr. Dracon had started to see cracks. "Didn't it matter?"

Sprite thought the same exact thing as let herself out as well.

 _~IT~_

 _ **-"He looked depressed at lunchtime…"**_

Mikhael looked at the choice of organ meats, then back at the choice of thin porridge that looked like gruel, then considered the option of going hungry; he didn't have the benefit of having a home-cooked lunch like Sprite who had already gone to lunch table that was actually still clean. Yet, he soon ended up having to settle with a plate of over-cooked rice and lukewarm liver, and trudged this way and that, looking for a seat. Sprite hailed him from where she was to join her, and he gratefully accepted her invitation. "Thanks. I thought I'd end up having to eat standing up."

"Nah, man. It's cool." She peered down at his plate in mild disgust, trying her best to not recoil in shock. "Eugh. What _is_ that?"

"It's organ meat. Liver, to be specific." The boy graced his food before he began eating. Taking care to swallow, he refrained from talking with his mouth full. "I only wish it wasn't room temperature."

"Room temperature? My main concern is that I'm not even sure if that's dead."

"I'm used to it. My grandfather and I eat venison all the time from the deer that he hunts, and I think that deer liver is high in protein."

"Your gramps hunts deer? Isn't it out of season right now?"

"I could tell him, but I don't want to go hungry." That's the least of a punishment he'd get if he affronted his grandfather. He still hadn't gotten a replacement for one of his molars that he'd lost when the man hit his jaw with a board. " _Das machts nichts-…It doesn't matter._ " He felt a little better in his denial and resumed eating his lunch again. He didn't get too far, though as Alvin came over as soon as he noticed that his friend was in the lunchroom. Sprite could tell that Mikhael wasn't exactly pleased to see him, but Alvin seemed to be oblivious to this.

"Yo Michael! I knew you said that you were going to take a while, but I had no idea it was going to take you this long to get here! They were serving fried chicken earlier. I managed to save you a piece." The Seville then presented a burger box with the chicken that was assumed to be inside, but Raimund had much bigger issues on his mind-… much bigger than the pronunciation of his first name, or whether Alvin appeared considerate or not.

To his credit, however, Sprite noticed that the half-blood German managed to keep a lid on his emotions to avoid blowing up in anger. "I was turning in our project… you know, the one you did a half-assed job on. We're going to fail it. Look on the bright side…" Mikhael said sarcastically, "if we're lucky, we'll get a _high_ fail."

"Geez, I thought I did great! I went in depth!"

" _Ja-… yes,_ you sure did. You must have dug deep… and dragged that utter crap from the depths of your aft end. I'm going to fail this subject, and it's the only one that I actually like! Would it kill you to do your work when you're told? Don't you know that your actions have consequences that affect other people?"

"Don't jump down my throat, man. I'll make it up to you, I promise. Maybe I can convince Mr. Dracon to give you a bye since you were doing most of the work. I'll talk to him."

Mikhael stabbed a piece of liver with his fork. "Don't make promises that you can't keep, Alvin," he said before eating the piece of organ meat. "I know damn well that ever since Simon went to boarding school, you've been using me as a patsy; you're coasting on my efforts because I'm smart, yet I'm too stupid to realize it now that the school year has ended."

"Whoa, whoa," Alvin held up his hands as his eyes squinted in peeved annoyance. "You're really being insulting now." Mikhael thought a moment and deemed that he wasn't being as frank as he wanted to be without being disrespectful.

" _Es tut mir leid-… I'm sorry._ And if _you're_ sorry about slacking off, go talk to Mr. Dracon."

"You know me, man, I'll talk to him." Eager to get away from the embarrassing development, Alvin walked as briskly as he could, exiting the cafeteria. The two teens watched him leave before returning to eating their lunches in silence.

"Um… I don't think he's going to talk to Mr. Dracon."

"I know he's not going to," Mikhael mumbled. "He's not that sorry, and I doubt if he's even slightly sorry at all."

Streamer gazed sidelong at her companion, wondering what she could say to make him feel better. She didn't get the chance to, as Mikhael slumped forward, resting his hand in his palm.

" _Das machts nichts-…It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter."_

 _~IT~_

 **It takes more than one person to tell a story, and it can't be told from one side. This is about how the events (in the prelude) came to happen. Combined, from the perspectives of the Ocs, everyone tells the complete story.**

 **Does everyone recognize themselves from the names/miscellaneous hints provided? Basically, every OC is a person I happen to know of (on this site, either by their profile info or simply by past conversation. Hope you had fun seeing yourselves! Today's character is Spirit Written. It's kinda obvious, but I hope you liked seeing yourself!**

 **And about that 'Streamer' nickname. Sorry about that. Your profile kinda gave me that impression, LOL.**

 **This is actually the only real fun part of the fic. The fic itself is actually going to be somber. I hope I don't botch it.**

 **-Vos Mos Amplio.**


	3. DOES

_**Das Machts Nichts: Saturday**_

 _~DOES~_

 _ **-"His grandfather was always abusing him…"**_

She was in her own home, finishing up the task of pressing her dress in preparation for the dance that was going to happen tonight. Admiring it for a brief moment, she then hung it on a hanger and plugged out the iron. " _Si._ That's that."

Hardly had she finished congratulating herself did she hear frightened yells coming from next door, intercrossed with angry shouts. The voices were all too familiar to her, given her house's close proximity, and she immediately recognized them as belonging to her neighbor and friend, Mikhael, and his grandfather. As per the horrible usual, she could do nothing except to listen at the window to find out what the matter was this time. She could only catch snippets of what was being yelled, but she could hear enough to piece together what had happened.

It was not to satisfy any sort of curiosity. It was only done to find out what the so-called 'Guardian' was upset about, and how to be empathetic to his grandson when the time came.

This had been happening for four years, ever since he came to be in the man's care when both his parents had died.

"… _You god-damn pisspot!_ … T _hirty pounds of prime venison meat! … wasted! Why the hell… keep your damn head straight… Look at what you're doing!"_

"… _Es tut mir leid-… I'm sorry! … Accident!... Oh, sh-"_ A heavy blow impacting flesh was heard here, cutting off Mikhael mid-speech. _"Es tut mir leid!"_

" _No, you ain't sorry, else you wouldn't have done it!"_

"… _It… an accident!"_

" _.. You're the accident! I don't know what the hell my daughter saw in your deadbeat daddy! You'd… get that dirt outta that meat… or what I'll do to you won't be an accident!"_ After this, Lil heard what sounded like angry footsteps stomping out of the shed, the owner making his way to his pickup truck. Hearing the pickup start up to drive off, Lil slowly counted to sixty in her head and once she did, left her home to go the home next door to see how Mikhael was doing. Her stride was silent; Mikhael did not hear her approach, not even in until she was only mere feet away from him. It could also be because he was engrossed in whatever task he was caught up in, but she still called out to him regardless.

"Hey, Mi-ka-el."

"You don't need to stress the syllables like that," Mikhael said without turning around. "You gotta say it as if there are only two syllables, not three."

"Sorry."

The half-German turned around and smiled lamely. "It's fine. My name isn't made to be spoken by someone with a Spanish background, my Argentinian friend. At least you make an effort… unlike a certain bastard I know…"

"Excuse me?"

"Never mind, it's not important," Mikhael said hastily. Lil narrowed her eyes in suspicion; she had clearly heard what he had said but was not sure about who he meant. He probably meant a classmate given the fact that he was introverted, but she wouldn't know who it was since she was in the grade below his since she was a year younger than him.

"Not important eh?" Lil asked rhetorically. She looked at him for a moment longer, long enough for him to be annoyed by her stare.

"What is it?"

"I **can't** see the slight swelling on your jaw." She used negative speak as was their practice; he always denied that his grandfather physically abused him, and this was the only way he'd actually talk about it.

"I can **not** barely feel the slight pain there. Perhaps I've gotten so used to **not** being abused that I've become tolerant of the pain I do **not** get."

Lil straightened up. "But why are you on the ground? Did you 'fall' down again?"

"I'm such a clumsy person," Mikhael said quietly. "I've also dropped this meat on the ground accidentally." For the first time, Lil took a better note of the slab of deer meat that he was picking the dirt off of by individual specks with only his fingers, and asked why he was going through the trouble when he could simply wash it. "The meat has to stay dry to be cured, and any water would only cause it to spoil. I have to pick out the dirt, and as best I can."

"Your grandfather is…" the girl paused here, wondering if she should continue to use negative speak, and decided to be ironical. "Your grandfather is a very nice man." She didn't pause to consider what kind of effect this would have on the teen, but soon, she could see him struggling to keep back his tears.

"Yes. He's a _very_ nice man." In anger, he swiped at his eyes with his shirt sleeve before continuing his task, picking off the dirt off. " _Das macht nichts-… it doesn't matter._ But I still have to hurry to clean the meat. I'm looking forward to the dance tonight."

Finally, a subject she could be happy about. "Yeah, me too! You said you were going with Brittany, right? You sure she'll come? Don't get me wrong, but you and her… are NOT in the same league. Not to mention that Alvin's her boyfriend? Or was? They're always getting together and breaking up every other week, it seems."

"Have I ever told you that you're very supportive?" Mikhael said sarcastically.

"I thought you wouldn't care. You just give off that 'I don't give a damn' attitude when you say that phrase." Lil was going off on a tangent waving her hands this way and that to emphasize what she meant. "' _It doesn't matter'_ THIS, and ' _It doesn't matter'_ THAT! C'mon, Raimund, at least pretend to care."

"She and I are going!" Mikhael insisted. "She offered to go with me!"

That was what he said. What Lil really heard, however, was the fear that he was wrong. She didn't answer, though. Sure, she was younger than him, but she could still see that he almost latching on to this dance as something therapeutic to take his mind off of things that happened to him in his own home. She couldn't very well tell him that he shouldn't… after all, what would happen if even things at school became intolerable for him as well? As far as she knew, he actually enjoyed school as it was his only means to be away from home, and if he didn't have school and the people he associated with, then his ever-growing depression would only become worse.

"Okay, then. Take care, eh?" she mumbled as she left him alone in the shed.

" _Bis später-… I'll see you later._ " With that, Mikhael took out his cell phone as he waved goodbye. He looked as if he had a few calls to make.

 _~DOES~_

 _ **-"Things didn't go well at the dance…"**_

"Why are you watching him like that?" a girl asked suddenly, making Lil look about her wildly as if guilty of something or other. The owner of the voice smiled a bit at the girl's antics and introduced herself as the person who had spoken. "Take it easy. I'm not a cop or anything. I was just wondering if you came with Mikhael."

"Eh?" Lil was completely caught off guard. "No. I'm his friend, but I didn't come with him. I guess you could say that I _followed_ him here." (1)

"How so?"

"He said that he was coming with a girl named Brittany. I assumed that he was talking about the diva of the school, so I'm watching to see if he's gonna dance with her." Being followed by her new companion, Lil went over to the refreshments table and ladled some punch into her cup. "When I talked to him about it today, he sounded kinda… how to put this?" Lil was unsure, and during her pause to drink her punch, her companion started rattling off suggestions.

"Desperate? Hopeful? Expecting things to go wrong but doesn't want to admit it? That's it, right?"

"Yep. That's exactly what I mean." Lil continued to watch Mikhael, this being easy since she knew he was wearing the only one wearing a long-sleeved white shirt, and soon realized that he was now dancing with someone. She couldn't make out who he was dancing with as people kept crossing in and out of the way, but the person she was conversing with recognized the mystery someone.

"Hey, he's dancing with Brittany."

Lil gasped and nearly choked on her drink. "Wha-?!"

"See! It's Brittany! I came with her and sisters, so I know what she's wearing. But I know that's Mikhael because he's the only guy who doesn't own a tuxedo."

By now, Lil had recovered from her accidental intake. "He's too poor to afford a tux."

"Well, you seem to know him pretty well, but if it's one thing I know…" the companion trailed off as soon as she spied Alvin crossing the dance floor, weaving through people to get to Brittany and Mikhael, the latter of which finally seemed to be smiling for the first time for the longest while. "I don't really have him all figured out yet, but I know Brittany. He should never have come to the dance with Brittany."

"How so?" Before an explanation could even be made, Lil could only stare wide-eyed as Alvin nailed Mikhael with a punch to the face.

 _~DOES~_

 **1-I think I can spoil the identity of the person who was shown today. Lil is monsterhighargenta. 'Following' is a reference to the fact that monsterhighargenta is following this fanfiction author (Mikhael) on the site; he's in her favorite author's list. I had to drop her into the fic because she's such a fan of Alvin and the Chipmunks. Hope you liked being the Guest Star today.**

 **-Vos Mos Amplio.**


	4. MATTER

_**Das Machts Nichts: Sunday**_

 _~DOES~_

 _ **-"Mikhael had finally broken…"**_

" _Oh my God, Mikhael sucks, man!"_

" _Can't trust Germans, man. I mean, he looks like Hitler!"_

" _Did he think that he was going to be her rebound guy?"_

" _Maybe Brittany was using him to make Alvin jealous? Guess it worked out even better than she'd hoped, huh? Alvin was wailing all over him."_

" _What a shitty ending for the school year. And you should've seen how Mr. Dracon getting ready to break up the one-sided fight. Alvin nearly beat the shit out of him."_

" _i heard his great-grandpa was a Nazi i guess it was just his jeans. *genes, lol autocorrect."_

" _Mikhael got ROFL stomped. He didn't even try to fight back."_

" _He was wrong for trying to pick up his friend's girl!"_

" _He's an idjit, that's what!"_

" _He's a liar too! Did you even hear how he insulted Alvin?!"_

That was only the Whatsapp class group chat. The message feed coming in from Twitter was far more insidious and hateful since there was no such thing as moderation from anyone. Everyone said as they pleased, and the persons doing so had ambiguous names, so it was hard to tell who in particular was being abusive. With a sigh, Oceana Steele continued to scroll down through all the messages and found nothing but hate. "…Eugh…"

It had really gotten her down, knowing that she could have done something to prevent it, but did nothing. When push came to shove, all she'd really done was watch Alvin lay into Mikhael as if he hated him for even living. Memories of the afternoon before kept rolling around in her head.

" _Hey Brittany, your phone's ringing." At Oceana's caution, Brittany made a little haste to dig her phone out of her purse and looked at the caller ID before showing it to her as well. "Hmm? Is it Mikhael? What's he calling you for?"_

" _He's probably calling to check if I'm still going to the dance with him. I did make sure to ask out a guy who'd probably be a little desperate." She picked up the call and answered with the loudspeaker on so that Oceana could listen in, "hello?"_

" _ **Oh, Brittany? It's me, Mikhael."**_

" _I know. Caller ID, you know. Plus, I can hear the accent." When Brittany said this, Oceana could swear that she could nearly HEAR the half-German become embarrassed._

"… **Of course. Listen, I was wondering if we're still good for tonight? At the school dance."**

" _Sure, I'll be there! Don't worry!" Brittany exclaimed, before realizing that the boy sounded worried. "Wait… you weren't actually worrying, were you?"_

" _ **Nein-…no, of course not!"**_ _Of course he was. Everyone knew that Alvin was particularly possessive when it came to Brittany. "_ _ **I'll be there tonight."**_

" _Later!" Hanging up the phone, Brittany turned back to Oceana, who had a questioning look on her face. "What is it?"_

" _I thought you were going with Alvin?"_

" _Nah. We broke up… again. Just last month."_

" _With you two, honestly, it'd be better to call it a trial separation, and you two always gets back together."_

" _Well, this isn't a date," Brittany tried to explain, "I'm only going to dance with him, I'm not going TO THE DANCE with him exclusively. You see, when you go these things unhinged to any one person, you get to have more fun anyway."_

…

Back in the present, Oceana sighed as someone shared a video in the Whatsapp group chat, showing how Alvin was beating Mikhael about the head, neck, and gut, while the half-German only half-did his best to defend himself from the thrashing. At the end of it all, Mr. Dracon and a girl (the one who was supposed Mikhael's friend whom she was talking to last night), was finally able to part them both, although it looked like he was trying to pry Alvin off of the youth. The person taking the video didn't focus on Alvin, but instead on Mikhael. He actually looked fairly decent for a person who was just on the worse end of a beating, giving the impression to everybody that it wasn't the first time he'd been in a physical trouncing. One of his eyes was a bit blackened, and blood dripped from his broken nose onto his shirt, staining it with spatters. Mikhael merely took out his handkerchief out of his pocket, wiped his nose and looked at his friend who had beaten him, as well as his schoolmates who ridiculed him. They all fell silent as soon as the boy started to speak; even the music itself felt like it ground to a halt.

" _Es tut mir weh-… It hurts." Mikhael said, before laughing humorlessly. "Old habits die hard. I keep forgetting that I'm not in my homeland; you don't speak my language, and I have trouble speaking only English. My parents died when I was only ten, and I had to come here to live with my grandfather, the father of my American mother. Needless to say, he wasn't pleased to know that he was my only living relative, and he's made it clear that he hates me. Day in, day out. My only respite is here at school. I've been with you all for four years, and yet most of you don't know my name, or even care to learn it. I've tried to make the best of it, though I'm only an out-of-place introvert that's in a foreign culture. Alvin is one of my few friends here ever since he was the one to give me the school tour when I transferred here. My only friend when all I could speak was some broken English that my mother had taught me."_

" _That's not relevant, you prick!" A student yelled from the crowds._

" _It is," Mikhael replied calmly. "He, of all people, knows me well. He knows that I would've likely come by myself, and the only person who invited me was Brittany herself. I'm one of those people who doesn't know how to tell someone 'no', or to rebuke them when they're taking advantage of me. I still can't even say my true opinion, much less try to get out of a dancing invitation with his ex-girlfriend. He should know that if she asked me, I wouldn't have said 'No'. But I should've known that he was too thick."_

" _WHAT?!" Alvin roared when he heard the insult as Brittany clutched at the Seville. "The word's been that you're one of those prom-rapists! You think I'd allow you to do that to Brit?!"_

" _She was the one who started those lying rumors!" Mikhael yelled back. "But you'd sooner believe the lies than someone who looks and sounds like I do, eh? Because I'm unpopular? Because I let everyone treat me like a doormat? I allowed myself to be used by Brittany to make you jealous… and now I've seen who you really are. I've never had a friend, not one."_

At this revelation in the video, Oceana leaned forward. She hadn't heard this part clearly last night. "Mikhael had told Alvin this? But why?" She replayed the video from Mikhael's monologue, carefully analyzing what was said before her jaw dropped. "Holy crap. Mikhael knew that Brittany was using him to make Alvin jealous, and then he called Alvin to make the situation worse on purpose. But why?..." She continued the video, now finally beginning to think that she grasped the situation.

" _Tomorrow, Brittany will have her assertive boyfriend back, and Alvin will have his beautiful girlfriend at his side. I guess you could say that happiness is wasted on the undeserving… but does that mean that those who deserve it will not get it? Am I deserving of happiness and will not get it?!" Mikhael yelled at the top of his lungs. The Raimund half-covered his face with his hand, but everyone could see that he was crying. "I suppose it's time that I made things fair, Alvin. Enjoy your happiness; when you've lost it, it'll make you appreciate it even more. Tomorrow, you're going to be like me." The boy sobbed. "Es tut mir weh!"_

Oceana found herself biting on her lower lip in trepidation. "Holy shit…" Steele slammed her laptop shut and ran out of her house, embarking on her bicycle and riding off to Mikhael's house. In a show of balance, she used one hand to steer while digging her phone out of her pocket to call 911, trying to warn them that there was going to be trouble.

"Listen. My classmate, Mikhael Raimund, he's gone crazy! I think he's gonna kill somebody!..."

She hurried on to explain her reasons, but it wasn't well received. In the end, the dispatcher did comply to send a patrol car to check out this 'Mikhael' person at his home and later at Alvin's house, but that was all. It was going for naught; from the distance, Oceana could feel herself getting tired, but that feeling fled when she saw black smoke climbing into the sky.

The direction was Mikhael's house.

She pedaled faster, hastening to get to the half-German. Along the way, she could hear her phone going off in her pocket, indicating that she was getting notifications, but she paid it no mind. The acrid burn of smoke in her nostrils only increased as she rode in closer and closer, and soon, she had gotten to his street. She had long suspected that it was his house going up in flames, and it was plain to see that was his home that was on fire. Even more so, people were crowded in front of it, even as a fire engine and its firemen were trying their best to put out the blaze. "Shit! I should've seen this coming!" she cursed bitterly as she ground to a halt close to the crowd.

"Seen what coming?" A voice asked from the border of the crowd. Oceana glanced sidelong to see who had responded to her, only to find that it was the girl who she had been talking to the night before. Apparently, the girl had recognized her as well. "Hey! It's you! What're you doing here?"

"I'm here to stop Mikhael before he kills someone! But why is his house burning?" Oceana demanded.

"He's the one who burned it," Lil said matter-of-factly. "I knew he'd snap eventually, but… a man came over and found his grandpa dead from a knife-stab to the chest. He said he saw Mikhael getting away on a bicycle away with one of his grandpa's handguns, but when he saw that the house was catching fire, he stopped to call the Fire Brigade first and pull the old guy out before he burned up in it."

"Oh… no…" Oceana breathed. "He's going after Alvin next! I gotta call the cops and warn them-"

"I thought about the same thing," Lil said sadly. "I already called the police and warned them that he was going to target Alvin. Alvin's house is miles away from there, and Mikhael's probably been there for at least fifteen minutes. There's nothing more we can do, except hope that Mikhael won't kill anyone else." With a haggard sigh, Oceana still motioned to her companion to get on to her bike pegs on her rear wheel, still anxious to see if she could get to the Seville's house. Understanding what she meant, Lil got on to tow on the bicycle, and together, they both started traveling to the Seville's home. Along the way, Oceana retrieved her phone out of her pocket to try to call Alvin's phone to warn him of the impending danger, as well as Brittany, but both phones rang out with no response.

Feeling the rising tension by means of the shoulders she was holding onto, Lil asked Oceana if she was okay.

"Of course I'm not. My classmate turned out to be a murderer."

"Classmates, associates, acquaintances," Lil said in a listing manner, "but none of us can claim to really be Mikhael's friend. Hell, I shouldn't either. I've always known that he was getting abused by his grandfather, and maybe he just finally snapped. He didn't want to allow anyone to intervene, and he was just bottling up the pain."

"I could've stopped Brittany from making things worse, yesterday," Oceana replied. "We can't just say that one person has to take the blame."

"Uh-huh." Lil glanced back behind her at the burning house in the distance that was beginning to smolder from the water that was gushing from the hose all over its base. "Remember that active shooter from Florida? The one about Sandy Hook? There was a lot of commotion about that. I can't say that I can emphasize with the victims and their families, but I think I understand the shooter a little bit better. Guns don't kill people. Knives don't kill people. People kill people."

"Sick people murder other people!" Oceana cried as she begun to pedal faster.

"Misunderstood and hurt people take it out on other people," Lil said almost sagistically. "And when it comes to blaming people, we can't just blame the killer. Sure, killing other people isn't right and they're downright stupid for becoming murderers… but people don't just get up and become murderers. Mikhael didn't just get up this morning and decided to be a murderer. I guess we all drove him over the edge. His home made him unhappy, his school made him unhappy, his only friend made him unhappy. Hell, even I made him unhappy as his next door neighbor. If I had been more sympathetic to his situation instead of allowing him to suffer by himself…"

"…Maybe if I had gotten to know him…I guess..." Oceana agreed quietly as she continued to pump the pedals. "That phrase he's always saying?"

" _Das machts nichts_." Lil said perfectly, despite it being a deviation from her natural culture. " _It doesn't matter._ "

"It's too late for that now. But… it does matter, doesn't it?" Far ahead of them, Oceana could just about make out that there was disturbance ahead of them and began to fear the worst when she saw that they were converging on the Seville house. "Before people become like Mikhael," she said slowly, "they need friends. Is that what you're saying?"

Lil nodded. "That's exactly what I'm saying. That's what matters."

 _~IT DOES MATTER~_

 **Today's character is a ghost reviewer, TheSteelMushroom; they don't always sign their reviews, but I can tell when they're leaving their critique. I hope you liked your portrayal. Also, props to MRAY 4TW for being the antagonist of the fic. (M. Rai, LOL, it was kind of obvious too, like Spirit Written.) He's the only one who wouldn't get too pissed at me for doing this using his name. Someone's gotta play the bad guy… or WAS he the bad guy?**

 **This fic was originally meant to be a tragic romance fic, but that can be done later. Now, however, this fic was largely about my views about active shooters. It was my take on the Sandy Hook incident. Yeah, I must be thirty-five flavors of dumb for taking on this heavy subject in this fandom, but I thought that I wanted to get my opinions out there, despite its poor reception. We can't undo any of the damages that these active shooters caused, but from all indications, they led unhappy lives or were depressed outcasts of society. These people needed friends. Maybe if they had even one, it'd help to keep them from snapping.**

 **Happy people don't become murderers.**

 **What say you? Go make some new friends with people who look like they need a friend. Everyone needs one. Everyone SHOULD have one.**

 **-Vos Mos Amplio.**

 **#ItDoesMatter.**


End file.
